


Organized Chaos

by copperpotsnpans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Organized Crime, Police, Romance, Star-crossed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:55:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperpotsnpans/pseuds/copperpotsnpans
Summary: Forced to give up his job and become a trophy husband, Derek is determined to do what's right. Which, of course, is relative because his husband is a mob boss.Loosely based on this Tumblr prompt: "The Chief of Police is married to a Mob Boss, and they have to keep “just failing” to catch each other. When one of them hits the other in a shootout, it’s followed with “Oh I’m never going to hear the end of this…”"
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	1. Chapter 1

“You shot me!” Stiles yelled as he slammed the door behind him. The pictures rattled against the walls.

Derek slowly turned his head from the newspaper to his enraged husband.

“Technically, one of my deputies shot you.” He hadn’t shot Stiles. Sure, he’d been in the general vicinity and also had his weapon drawn but he was reasonably certain he hadn’t fired the shot that had hit his husband. 

“So now we’re about technicalities. Go figure. You’re always introducing me as your ‘entrepreneur husband’ but now that I have a bullet wound it’s ‘I didn’t technically shoot you’.” Stiles snapped with one hand on his hip.

Derek looked up at the ceiling, begging whatever deity there was left to believe in for the patience to deal with Stiles.

It wasn’t as if he was completely innocent in this but he couldn’t exactly stop his employees from investigating counterfeit art. Or drug trafficking. Or the occasional body that turned up involved in an open investigation. 

“An apology would be nice.” Stiles continued.

Derek took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that you were shot.”

“And?”

“And that I let them mirandize you on the way to the hospital.”

“And?”

Derek thought for a moment. There wasn’t anything else he could remember doing that would have irked Stiles enough for this.

“I’m drawing a blank here Stiles. What else did I do?”

“You didn’t hold my hand when I got stitches! You know I don’t like needles.”

Derek raised his eyebrows.

“I’m not allowed to be with the suspect during medical treatment if I’m related to them. You know this.” 

Stiles grumbled for a moment under his breath before visibly slumping forward.

“Will you at least help change the bandage?” he asked begrudgingly.

Derek chuckled softly. Far be it for the big bad mafia boss to change his own bandage.

“Of course I will. We did promise in sickness and in health, right?” Derek asked, standing and pulling Stiles close. He ducked his head, nosing at Stiles’s neck. “How bad is it?” 

“The wound or the fallout?” Stiles sighed, leaning into Derek’s embrace.

“Both.”

“Bullet went through and through so I’m not concerned with that. I’ve gotten worse in practice. The DA’s trying to prove I’m heading the group responsible for the increase in missing persons reports.” Stiles said in a manner that indicated how he truly believed it was preposterous for someone to think that.

“Didn’t I see you dumping a body last week?” Derek questioned, pulling back to look Stiles head on.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

Derek laughed. “Let’s go change that bandage. And have you called your lawyer?”

Derek flipped on the bathroom light and helped Stiles hop up onto the counter. Stiles pulled up his shirt sleeve so Derek could gently pull off the sterile cotton bandage. 

“You know Lydia beat me to the hospital? Like somehow her lawyer senses were tingling and she was waiting for me there.”

Derek hummed in response while carefully dabbing alcohol on the wound. “What’s she think of this?”

“That it’s awfully convenient that I’m married to a cop. And that I should lay low for a while.” 

“Not an awful idea.” he pointed out. “I could go a few days without the DA thinking I’m part of your little empire.”

“You would never.” Stiles hissed as Derek wiped the remaining dried blood from his wound. “No one would ever suspect innocent Derek with a heart of gold of being involved with the largest crime syndicate this side of the Mississippi.”

“Just like no one would ever think that you would have been the fool to marry a cop.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fool. I just played my cards right.”

Derek chuckled. Leave it to Stiles to act as if everything was part of his master plan. Which, Derek was positive that he had a master plan. The only debatable aspect was how comprehensive that plan was.

Derek reached out, pulling Stiles from the counter and into a standing position. “I love you.”

Stile nuzzled into Derek’s grasp, “I love you too. Even though you shot me.”

“For the thousandth time, I didn’t shoot you.” Derek’s outrage cut short as the doorbell rang repeatedly.

They pulled apart with one last gentle squeeze, mindful of Stiles’s wound.

Derek headed for the front door, only to discover the persistent doorbell ringer had already made their way inside.

Lydia stood in the entranceway in a mess of red curls. Her black pantsuit was tailored to perfection no doubt, and even Derek could admit it fit her well. 

“Where’s Stiles? We have urgent matters to discuss.” As usual, she was abrupt and to the point. Her hourly fee obviously didn’t cover any sort of bedside manner.

“He’s cleaning up and getting changed. Can I get you anything while you wait?” Derek asked. He certainly wasn’t Lydia’s biggest fan though even he had to acknowledge she was excellent at her job.

There wasn’t another lawyer out there that he would trust more with Stiles’s well being given his proclivities for the underbelly of most industries.

“Whisky. Neat.” Lydia ordered, as if she were in a high end restaurant and not the Stilinski-Hale household.

Derek rolled his eyes, long used to her demanding demeanor. Lydia was most at comfort when in the courtroom and when ordering others around. If she hadn’t become a lawyer, Derek could have easily seen her taking over a small European country and turning it into her own benevolent dictatorship.

He poured the whiskey, something that Stiles had purchased, and handed it over in the ornate crystal glasses kept for just this occasion. 

Lydia downed the glass and set it on the nearest surface with an audible clunk as Stiles rounded the corner into the living room. 

“Lydia! How nice of you to follow up. Good news, it wasn’t actually Derek who shot me, just one of his deputies.” he explained. 

Derek rolled his eyes. 

“You two need to start packing.” Lydia started. “You’re leaving. Tonight. Non-negotiable.”

Derek couldn’t process what she was saying. It sounded like a joke, like some prank Stiles and Lydia were in on together. They couldn’t just leave. They had a life in Beacon Hills and Derek had a location dependent career. 

“And where might we be going? Is the city picking up an all expenses paid trip to Disney? Have they seen the error of their ways?” Stiles laughed.

Lydia winced, which Derek immediately picked up on. Her expression was nearly always the same, schooled to polite indifference. If she was risking wrinkles on their asses, something was definitely amiss.

“Not quite. The city is too hot. You’ve had too many run ins with local law enforcement, your husband aside. The cartel’s threatening to pull out because you can’t keep a low profile. Bodies keep dropping and the only name that is running across the desks of the detectives is yours, Stiles.” she explained in an even keeled way that matched her nearly blank expression.

“You know I’m not the one,” Stiles began as Lydia interrupted.

“We should discuss this alone. Derek, give us the room.” she ordered.

“This is my house and last I checked, you don’t live here. I’m going to stay. Say what you need to say.” he argued. He certainly wasn’t going to take orders from her in his own house. 

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Fine. You can’t keep your deputies in line and you certainly can’t manage to find the sick fuck who’s killing sex workers on the dock. As far as I’m concerned, this is as much on you as it is on Stiles.”

“Lydia. That’s enough. Don’t try that again.” Stiles barked, placing himself slightly in front of Derek, as if Derek needed protecting. 

He didn’t, of course. If there was one thing Derek had learned from his time with Stiles, it was how to handle himself. He watched them have a stare off before Lydia slightly ducked her gaze, admitting defeat in this battle. In Derek’s opinion, she was in to win the war in this matter.

“Explain.” Stiles ordered as he motioned towards the couch before lowering himself onto the navy cushion. 

Derek remained standing behind the couch and Lydia mirrored his position in front of it. 

“If the cartel pulls out, you’re going to lose control of the coast. If you lose control you’re going to find yourself on a lot of people’s lists. You’ve pissed off a lot of people. I’ve talked to the cartel’s legal representative and they’ve agreed on a second chance as long as you adhere to their demands.”

Derek watched as Stiles’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“What do they want this time?” he asked.

“The both of you to keep a low profile. And they want Derek to take a leave of absence. Effective immediately. They also want one Senator Ruiz to vote against the unionization of the rail workers.”

“Lydia, you know I can’t ask Derek to do something like that.” Stiles argued. “I won’t ask that of him.”

Derek sighed. It really wasn’t up for debate. If Lydia said it needed to be done then it was already just as good as done.

“It’s not optional. They also want a passable Monet and a 3% cut of all cocaine proceeds that come across the border. The two of you will leave tonight for Missouri. You have a gallery there right?” she asked Stiles, though her face belied that she already knew the answer.

“Yeah a gallery of very passable fakes. It’s much easier to fake abstract art, you know?” Stiles told her, gesturing to the painting over the sofa. “I did this one myself.”

“Derek, can you start packing our bags?” Stiles asked.

Derek slowly nodded, realization washing over him that this time tomorrow he would be, at least temporarily, unemployed for the first time in his adult life. 

He pulled the suitcases from the closet and placed them on the bed, the soft din of conversation between Stiles and Lydia fading through the walls.

Packing his own clothing was easy compared to Stiles’s. What on Earth could he need being unemployed? Certainly not his uniform. Jeans, t-shirts, and workout gear compiled most of his clothing.

Stiles on the other hand would undoubtedly need suits, and he’d probably be business casual otherwise.

Derek felt dread wash over him as he thought about the leave of absence he’d need to request. It would do nothing but make him look as guilty as his colleagues already thought he was. Though, he supposed at the end of the day he was guilty to some extent. Marrying Stiles meant agreeing to turn a blind eye to the occasional art theft or to the late night meetings his husband held that produced an unidentifiable quantity of illegal substances. It also meant that sometimes when a body was recovered from the coast that he treated it as if he had absolutely no idea as to who could possibly be responsible, despite the fact that he knew either Stiles or one of his employees had met with the victim just prior to the discovery of the body.

Perhaps he’d get lucky and they wouldn’t look too much into the request. Perhaps this would be the break he and Stiles both needed. Derek didn’t quite know what he was thinking when he decided to take the promotion. He knew, in the back of his mind, that they would inevitably end up here. With his job conflicting with his husband’s dealing.

He felt like some demure woman, giving up his career to better suit his husband.

Derek zipped his suitcase and then pulled out his phone, dialing the familiar number to Captain Argent, his direct boss.

It was late, but Captain Argent didn’t sound at all surprised or otherwise taken off guard by Derek’s call.

“What can I help you with, Hale?” Captain Argent asked. “Is everything okay at home?”

“I’ve actually had some family stuff come up. My sister, she’s sick.” Derek began, hoping the lie he was about to tell would be believable.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, she’s really sick and I’m the only one who’s available to help her. I’d like to request an indefinite leave of absence.” he requested.

“Well, Hale, I’m sorry to hear about your sister. What’d you say she was sick with?” Captain Argent asked, though they both knew good and well that Derek hadn’t listed any ailment.

“It’s an autoimmune disease.” he replied.

“Sorry to hear that. And how long do you need off again?”

“Indefinitely.” 

“You know it’ll be unpaid, right?” the captain asked.

“I’m aware.” Derek responded.

“And this has nothing to do with anything else?”

Derek knew that his captain was referencing the shooting but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir. Is there any paperwork I need to fill out?” 

“I’ll email it to you. Good luck with your sister.” Captain Argent said, hanging up abruptly, apparently not in the mood for Derek’s roundabout answers.

He felt bad using a family member as an excuse but it wasn’t as if he could just say “Hey boss, sorry for the short notice but my criminal enterprise running husband was shot and now the cartel’s pissed so we need to get out of town.”

His email dinged with the paperwork and he quickly but diligently filled out the forms before emailing them back.

Derek pulled his suitcase into the living room, where Stiles and Lydia were speaking in hushed voices. 

“I’ve requested an indefinite leave of absence due to my sister’s worsening autoimmune condition. Captain Argent has the paperwork.” he told them.

Stiles smiled softly. “Thank you.” he said, earnesty written on his face. 

“Well, the good news is, you guys have a couple of options for a house.” Lydia scrolled through her phone. “I’ll send you your options. Derek, let me know which you prefer.”

“We’re getting a house?” he asked. He knew they’d be gone for a while but it had never occurred to him that they would be staying long enough for a house.

“It’s for the best. Apartments and hotels have nosy neighbors.” Stiles responded, grabbing his coffee beans from the kitchen.

“You’re taking the coffee?” Derek asked in surprise. “They’ll have coffee where we’re going.”

“Excuse me if I don’t rely on Missouri having fair trade, single source origin, traceable coffee.” Stiles snarked, shoving the coffee into his bag.

Leave it up to his husband to worry about coffee with a fresh bullet wound amidst their lives being turned upside down.

Derek took out his phone to look through the listings Lydia sent him. All three houses were sizeable and in rather good neighborhoods according to the street view.

The first was unremarkable but it had a pool. Derek couldn’t imagine having to hire someone local to take care of the pool so that was off the table. The second house had a fenced in backyard and a nice kitchen and the third had a rather long driveway and had recently been remodeled. The kitchen wasn’t quite as nice as the second but the long driveway allowed for them to easily see who was approaching the property.

The third property it was. Derek sent the link back to Lydia and put his phone away.

“Good choice.” she said. “Stiles, do you want to see it?”

“No, I trust Derek.” he responded, flitting from one room to the next, collecting items he needed.

Derek followed suit and grabbed what he couldn’t replace. The family picture that sat on an end table in the living room, his electronics, and the throw blanket from the ottoman that he liked covering up with while watching TV. He knew there were blankets where they were going but he couldn’t resist the familiar object. 

“I’ll arrange for someone to come over and take care of the house. Email me a list of anything you want mailed and I’ll see to it.” Lydia instructed. “The driver will be here in 17 minutes. You’ll take off from the private landing strip that Stiles ordinarily uses. It’s a smaller plane so I suggest you take something with you if you’re hungry.”

Looking over at Stiles, Derek could see that his husband was already on it, shoving protein bars and other various snacks into a reusable grocery bag.

Derek finished gathering his things and sat on their couch, waiting for the car. He’d miss this home, even if he knew that one day they’d return. It was the home they bought together right after they’d married. And they’d spent countless hours decorating and personalizing all of the features. 

The kitchen in particular was something Derek had taken great pride in. He’d spent quite a lot of time making sure it met his standards. The new kitchen would have to have different appliances. He would see to it.

The car arrived too soon and yet not soon enough. Derek’s anxiety spiked at the sound of every passing car. He was anxious to get away from the scene of the crime, so to speak. 

He helped load the bags into the black SUV and then he waited in the back seat as Stiles and Lydia exchanged goodbyes. His husband was quick to join him, sliding into the SUV.

“I’m sorry.” The ride was quiet, only broken by Stiles’s soft apology. 

Derek sighed. “I knew the risks when I married you.”

“I’m still sorry though.” Stiles said, weaving his fingers through Derek’s and resting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

Derek let the quiet of the car guide them to the airport.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for reading! I genuinely have no idea how often this will be updated as I'm writing as I go, though I'm aiming for once a week. Enjoy!

The flight to Missouri was quiet, spare the shaking of the plane.

Stiles had sensed Derek’s somber mood early on and had abstained from starting an inane conversation.

Derek sighed heavily as he thumbed through his book. He wasn’t really comprehending anything he read but continued scanning the pages to keep up the pretense. 

The two suited men who’d met them on the tarmac were sitting in front of them, though every so often they turned to speak to Stiles, their tones hushed as if they were purposefully excluding Derek from the conversation. 

Somehow he was upset that Stiles wasn’t trying to engage and that Stiles was giving him space at the same time. Who ever said feelings had to make sense? Derek knew that Stiles would apologize again in a heartbeat but he didn’t really want apologies. He wanted life to be uncomplicated again, though he couldn’t really say it had ever been uncomplicated. Except for their honeymoon. That had been blissfully stress free, with neither of them working for an entire month.

As the plane touched down in the dark of night, Derek could make out the outline of thick trees and not much else. 

The humid air cloistered his skin as he exited the plane, the two goons carrying the bags. 

Stiles held the car door open for him and then slid in next to him.

“We’ll be going to a hotel for the night and then Lydia’s going to put in an offer for the house.” Stiles explained.

“Room service?” Derek asked. He’d be highly unhappy if Stiles was sticking them in a hotel that didn’t have room service. The last thing he wanted to do was have to eat at the restaurants in the small godforsaken town. They probably only had one thing on the menu: food poisoning with a side of salmonella. Missouri was not synonymous with gourmet dining in his mind.

“Of course, though it certainly wasn’t easy finding a hotel that offered more than a continental breakfast. Did you bring your suits?”

“No, why would I? I’m not going to be working.” Derek stated the obvious. He had no reason to bring his collection of fine attire.

“We’ll want to keep up appearances and that means you accompanying me to events and the occasional meeting. You’ll need suits for those. Don’t worry about it though, I’m sure we can order something and then have it tailored.”

“What if I don’t want to go to events?” Derek snarked. Accompanying his husband was never optional but damn if he didn’t want to put up a token of protest. He was being reduced to arm candy and it left him with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not to be overly contrite but he had a successful career and was well respected. At least he was before he’d met and married Stiles.

He wouldn’t give his husband up for the world but even he had to admit that not everything could be viewed through rosy tinted romantic goggles. Post-marriage he’d been under additional scrutiny at work, with constant rumors surrounding his personal life. Most of his colleagues were respectful enough only to whisper behind his back. A few were brave enough to suggest his corruption to his face, though he’d usually had the captain backing him in those cases.

Those were the early days. The days when Stiles’s dealings were primarily in counterfeit art. And then came the drugs, though Stiles didn’t personally handle them. With the drugs came the occasional body being dropped. He got it, he did. It wasn’t easy for him to accept that the man he loved more than the Earth itself occasionally committed murders. No, that had nearly ended his marriage the first time Stiles had come home with blood staining his otherwise immaculate suit.

The blowout had been of epic proportions and Stiles had stayed at a hotel for nearly a month, sending gifts with justifications. The long, flowery letters all had the same undertone. It wasn’t as if Stiles was killing good people or innocent people. The bodies he was responsible for had all been guilty of some awful crime.

And, yeah, Derek could see the desire there. There were plenty of criminals who had slipped out of the grasp of law enforcement and sometimes in the dark of night, Derek could admit he wished some of them dead. 

From there it was a slippery slope of epic proportions. Once he could justify the occasional murder, he mostly tried to ignore Stiles’s dealings to the best of his ability and deflected when he couldn’t. Though, there was also the expectation that he hold the role of the dutiful spouse among Stiles’s organization. So he sometimes turned his head the other way when he witnessed his husband engaged in illicit affairs. And sometimes he was arm candy.

“If you really don’t want to go I won’t force you.” Stiles sighed. “But it would mean a lot if you would. Besides, do you want to spend all your time cooped up in the house or do you want to drink expensive champagne and eat tiny appetizers?”

He had a point, Derek could admit begrudgingly. He did like champagne and tiny appetizers. Who didn’t? 

“Fine. But I’m bringing my gun. And I’m not participating in inane conversation.” Those were his terms and he was sticking to them.

Stiles chuckled, “I would expect nothing else.” He handed over his phone, indicating that Derek should put a few suits in the cart.

They mostly kept separate finances though every so often Derek would get the barest hint of how much money Stiles actually had. Like when he put down payments on houses. In cash. Or when he’d gifted Derek a new car for Christmas, completely paid for. But for the most part, Derek was careful to keep a boundary between them, reluctant to fully accept the benefits of Stiles leading the sort of organization he did. It also protected them in the event Stiles was ever in legal trouble, that way Derek would still have access to money if Stiles’s accounts were frozen. 

Still, he scrolled through Nordstrom adding a few suits into the cart. And then because he was still sulking a little, a new KitchenAid mixer and silk sheets. And a new water bottle. And then another. He’d give whichever one he didn’t like to Stiles. 

He handed the phone back and noted how his husband’s eyebrows raised slightly in response to the total but then without hesitating he put in his card information and completed the purchase.

“It’s being shipped to the hotel. Should be here the day after tomorrow.” Stiles said, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. “I know you’re not happy and I’m sorry that you’ve been dragged into this.”

“It’s just as much my choice as it was yours.” Derek sighed, leaning his head against the seat. “How much longer until we’re there?”

One of the goons from the front turned around slightly, “We’ll be there in 15 minutes according to the GPS.” And then he turned back around.

Derek didn’t particularly like most of Stiles’s associates. Most were either plain goons like the two up front or they were the over-involved high society type like Lydia. There wasn’t a lot of room for a family-oriented man from the West coast to make conversation.

The rest of the car ride was silent, though he could tell Stiles wanted to say something else. Thankfully, his husband refrained from starting anything while they had an audience. It probably also didn’t look great for him to be apologizing in front of his employees, if Derek could call them that.

The hotel they pulled up to did not look promising. In fact, it looked as if it was one strong puff of wind from falling down. The ‘I’ in Hilton was burnt out and the ‘O’ was flickering, threatening to go out at any minute.

But Stiles said there would be room service and for that he would suck it up for a few minutes and allow them to get checked in without any disparaging remarks.

Derek hung behind while Stiles provided the clerk with the necessary information. 

The inside of the hotel looked just as sketchy as the outside, with water stains dotting the ceiling. How was that even possible on the ground floor? Various stains dotted the carpet as well and the wallpaper behind the clerk was beginning to peel down. Weren’t chains supposed to have standards?

The inside of their hotel room was just as promising, with a strange stain in the corner, about midway up the wall. How does someone even stain something at that height?

The goons assisted the bellhop with their bags, putting them into the room and otherwise ignoring Derek’s presence. 

Soon enough he was alone with his husband, and for once in his life he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Sure, he could start an argument posing as a discussion but at the end of the day he was tired. He wanted to sleep.

Stiles took out his phone and began making a call. 

That made up Derek’s mind. He made his way to the en suite with his toiletry bag and washed his face, lathering the soap over his stubble. He had a perpetual five o’clock shadow, something Stiles loved. He considered shaving it out of spite but decided against it for the sake of vanity.

Derek threw his clothes on the chair in the corner below the stain and crawled underneath the stiff, scratchy covers.

Stiles hung up the phone and then sat next to him, his weight creating a divot in the bed.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Stiles asked.

“It’s been a long day. I’ll eat tomorrow.” Derek replied, snuggling deeper into the bed.

“I’ll order room service and wake you up when it gets here. You and I both know that if you don’t eat tonight you’re going to feel sick tomorrow.”

Derek turned over, trying to ignore his husband’s impeccable logic. Sometimes Stiles knew him better than he knew himself.

He began to drift off as Stiles placed the order. Derek dozed lightly until Stiles shook him awake to the smell of food. 

“They didn’t have steak so I got you a cheeseburger, medium well.” he said, prompting Derek to sit up. “And they didn’t have the whiskey you like so I ordered you a diet coke. I know you like those.” 

They ate in silence, though Derek did appreciate how thoughtful his husband could be.

The cheeseburger was subpar at best, and though Stiles had apparently ordered it medium well, it was cooked to the point of char so that answered any questions he had about the kitchen’s ability.

The diet coke, on the other hand, was the perfect amount of fizzy that guaranteed there was a restaurant like dispenser somewhere in the kitchen. At least he could be thankful for that.

With the last of dinner consumed, Stiles put the dishes outside for pickup while Derek brushed his teeth again and crawled back into bed.

Stiles took his time in the bathroom, and Derek was beginning to doze off again as Stiles slid into bed behind him, curling up close underneath the blankets.

“I know you’re upset and I’m sorry that our lives have been uprooted, I really am, and I promise I’ll make it up to you one way or another.” Stiles promised, his breath hot against Derek’s neck.

Derek relaxed into Stiles’s hold, nestling back against his husband. They’d agreed a long time ago to always apologize before going to bed and in moments like this, he was glad they’d made the agreement.

“We’ll get through it.” Derek promised, turning to face his husband. “We always do.” No matter how mad he was in the moment, or how disappointed he was that his career was pretty much over, he had faith that they would make it as a couple and that his anger would fade over time, the way it tends to when it comes to Stiles. “How else would we have made it this far?”

Stiles chuckled, “Remember that time I insulted your mother’s cooking? You were so pissed.”

Derek laughed. It had been one of their first holidays as a couple, and Stiles had told Talia that her chicken was just a touch dry, infuriating her and Derek simultaneously. His mom’s cooking was superb and her chicken was not dry. Stiles had zero idea what he was talking about when it came to cooking.

“Remember that time you got shot by one of my employees?” Derek replied.

Stiles pretended to pout, his lips puckering. “That was earlier today, or I guess yesterday depending on the time. And it still hurts.”

Derek picked lightly at the cotton bandage he’d put on Stiles’s wound, making sure the tape was holding throughout their cross country adventure. 

“I figured if we were talking about things that have made each other mad, I couldn’t not bring it up.” he answered. 

Stiles caught his hand and pulled it away from the wound, and then continued sliding his hand down Derek’s body, pausing at his hip, sliding his fingers into the waistband of his pajama pants.

Derek laughed again. Leave it Stiles to try and start something after an incredibly busy and trying day.

Not hearing any objection, Stiles’s hand continued on its trek into Derek’s pants, slipping onto his bare hip.

Derek sighed, arching into the touch, his dick beginning to stir. 

Stiles pushed at his pants and Derek lifted up to assist in their removal.

Once bare, Stiles urged him back onto his side, pushing and tugging until Derek was in his preferred position, his back to Stiles’s front.

Stiles slotted his dick in between Derek’s thighs, reaching around to grab Derek’s dick, tugging slightly at the head as he began moving. Half-hearted thrusts that showed just how exhausted they truly were.

Stiles rutted between his thighs, slicking the way with his own fluids.

It was quick. Dirty. Just the way Derek liked it. He wouldn’t fuck around and say something sappy like they came at the same time. That shit only happened in romance novels. No, Derek came and then let Stiles fuck his thighs until he’d finished.

Stiles errantly grabbed for a fabric of some sort and came up with his own undershirt, wiping Derek’s stomach and then dragging the rough fabric between his thighs, neither of them had the energy to get up and properly clean up. 

For a few moments Derek was able to forget the situation he found himself in, and he could pretend that it was any other night where his husband had come to bed late. He could pretend that everything was okay and that tomorrow didn’t hold a world unknown with more questions than answers.

That false warmth carried him softly to sleep.


End file.
